


That Old North Wind

by BonitaBreezy



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint is sad and refuses to leave his bed, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phil is supportive, and such a great husband, kinda jealous actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:10:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonitaBreezy/pseuds/BonitaBreezy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's sad, and he doesn't know why.  Phil does his best to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old North Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/gifts).



> Title from "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor/Carol King.
> 
> Fic for Kees who is feeling sad and doesn't know what will make it better. I hope this helps at least a little.

The apartment was dark and quiet when Phil got home, and at first he thought that Clint must have gone somewhere and forgotten to leave him a note.  It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.  It was only after he sorted through the mail, ate a cup of yogurt, and went back to their bedroom to change his clothes that he realized he was wrong.

Their bed was no longer neatly made like it had been when they had left for work that morning, but rather a lump of sheets, blankets (including the two afghans from the living room) and strewn about pillows piled in the center of the bed.  Phil approached the bed and rested his hand in the center of the lump, sighing quietly when it squirmed and emitted a little whimpering noise.

“Clint, are you hurt?” he asked, not trying to wrestle the blankets away.  He knew from experience that trying to force Clint out his blanket fortress always did more harm than good.

“No,” Clint answered.  His response was quick and concise, with absolutely no inflection that suggested he was lying, so unless he’d suddenly developed the ability to fool Phil, he had to be telling the truth.  Which meant that the problem was mental, not physical.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and there was a long pause from Clint before he huffed and shifted under the blankets.

“Sad,” he finally answered.

“Why?” Phil pressed gently.  When Clint got like this it could be hard to get him to talk, or it could be the easiest thing in the world.  The trick was to gauge what kind of mood he was in and to not press so much that Clint felt like he was being interrogated.

“Dunno,” Clint answered dully. “Just feeling sad.  Came out of nowhere.”  Phil rubbed the lump of blankets soothingly.

“Can I do anything to help?” he asked.

“Dunno,” Clint answered again, and Phil saw the blankets move just slightly, indicating that Clint had shrugged.

“Do you want to come out of there and try to talk about it?” Phil tried.

“No.  I want to stay here.”

“Okay,” Phil answered, giving the blanket mound a pat. “You go ahead and do that.  I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

“Kay,” Clint mumbled.  Phil left the room, heading towards the kitchen.  If Clint had decided he wanted to get up, Phil would have made him some hot chocolate, but it was a little harder to drink something while under a mountain of bed clothes, so he had to resort to plan B instead.  He pushed aside the various cereal boxes that littered the top of their fridge to grab the box of cornflakes in the back that Clint wouldn’t eat even if there was nothing else in the house.  They were cornflakes for that specific reason.  

He popped open the top of the box and pulled a package of Lemonades Girl Scout Cookies out.  They were Clint’s favorites, but not a flavor that they sold in the Northeast, so Phil had to order them from out of state and hide them so that he could have them for such occasions.  He returned the cornflakes box back to the top of the fridge and headed for the living room.

A few of the throw pillows from the couch had been tossed to the floor when Clint retrieved the afghans, so Phil tossed them back up onto the cushions on his way to the entertainment center that housed their DVD collection.  He picked out three and tucked them under his arm before heading back to the bedroom.

He let Clint be for a few more minutes while he changed into sleep pants and a cotton t-shirt, and then he rapped his knuckles against the headboard like he was knocking on a door.  The blankets shifted a bit and Clint’s eyes peered out of the little hole he’d made.  

“I’ve got The Incredibles, Robin Hood, and Beauty and the Beast.  Which one?” he asked.  Clint’s eyes flicked, predictably, from the movies in Phil’s right hand to the Lemonades in his left, before lifting back up to Phil’s face.

“Incredibles,” he said finally, and Phil went to go load up the DVD and grab the remotes.  Once the production logos started filtering across the screen, Phil made his way back to the bed, offering the cookies to the little hole Clint had made.  They were snatched quickly and dragged into the depths of the blankets, and Phil couldn’t hold back his fond yet exasperated smile.

“Are you ready to come out of there yet?” he asked, not thinking that Clint would be.  He was correct.

“No,” Clint said. “Gonna stay in.”

“Okay,” Phil said. “Can I come in?” The answer was immediate but silent.  Clint flipped back the top layer of his blankets and scooted away from the middle of the bed so that Phil would have room to climb into the nest behind him.  He looked cozy in his Iron Man pajama pants and Phil’s favorite hoodie, with his blonde hair all fluffed up and messy.  Phil couldn’t help pressing a kiss to his forehead before he clambered over him and settled down in the blanket mound.  He pressed up against Clint’s back as the blankets settled back over the top of them, leaving only enough open space for them to see the TV.

“I love you,” Clint murmured a few minutes later, and Phil pressed a kiss against the side of his throat and whispered the words back.  It earned him the smallest of smiles, and it felt like victory.  

Maybe Clint wasn’t completely cheered up, but if Phil had managed to make him feel loved and cherished in the midst of his sadness, then he counted that as a job well done.  He couldn’t always fix everything, but he’d do his damnedest to make sure that Clint knew he was never alone.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lets Lend a Helping Hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740647) by [pineappleprincess (Gamerwalrus695)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamerwalrus695/pseuds/pineappleprincess)




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